


Hobbit Prompt Fills

by avi17



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, F/F, F/M, Gen, Gold Sickness, M/M, Multi, Post-coital silliness, Will be adding to this whenever more of them happen, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:21:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3107666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avi17/pseuds/avi17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various drabbles/short stories from prompts on tumblr, the kink meme, etc.  Multiple ships, may be nsfw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bofur/Nori- Sphallolalia

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just a collection of various prompt fills from wherever. May be AU prompts, word-based prompts, kink meme minifills, basically anything that's too short to be its own fic will be collected here. I hope you enjoy :)

**Sphallolalia**  - Flirtatious talk that leads nowhere.

(slightly nsfw)

——-  
  
After what has to be a solid fifteen minutes, Bofur practically falls back down onto the bench next to him, overfilled tankards sloshing frothy ale over his hands and the cuffs of his sleeves.  Nori gladly takes one off his hands, draining almost half of it in a few gulps, and raises a braided eyebrow.  “Took your bloody sweet time, didn’ you?”  
  
Bofur fixes him with a slightly glazed grin. “Aye, did yeh miss me?”

"Maybe."  He shamelessly trails a hand up Bofur’s thigh (he’s _much_ too drunk to have any shame left, what little there was to begin with) and squeezes.  “Might need you t’ make it up to me.”  
  
Bofur tilts his head back so far he nearly loses his hat as he downs the entire rest of his tankard, before dropping it onto the table with a loud clatter and letting his head loll onto Nori’s shoulder.  “An’ how would I go about doin’ that?”  
  
Inching his fingers just the slightest bit higher up the other dwarf’s thigh, Nori smirks wickedly.  “We’ll ‘ave to get somewhere more private and figure that out, won’t we?”  
  
Bofur’s breath against his neck is hot, the scent of alcohol heady rather than unpleasant.  There are teeth on his earlobe now, a teasing nibble, and that lilting voice murmurs, “Maybe I want yeh to throw me down on this table an’ have me right now, privacy be damned.”  And oh _Mahal_ , Nori doesn’t think he can possibly actually mean that, but his pants are still a hell of a lot tighter than they were a minute ago.  
  
He is just contemplating pulling Bofur in for a kiss (and then out of the room to wherever’s convenient) when there is suddenly a great deal more weight against his shoulder and side.  He nudges the heavy body with his elbow and Bofur sags, falling face-first with a resounding thud onto the table.  For a split second he’s worried- and then he hears the faint snoring.  
  
 ** _Damn._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hello on tumblr- http://aviva0017.tumblr.com/


	2. Bagginshield- Druxy

**Druxy**  - Something which looks good on the outside, but is actually rotten inside.

——-

It is easy to forget that a bedraggled dwarf who looks (and smells) something like a wet dog is a king.  Or one in a sack.  Or wrapped up in a spider-web cocoon, for that matter.  Well, ‘forget’ may not be quite the right word, but Bilbo manages to overlook it often enough, and that is perhaps how he has felt able to grow so close to Thorin.  It is not a mistake he is likely to make again.  
  
Thorin looks every inch the king he was born to be when he re-emerges into the vast main hall of Erebor.  Bilbo isn’t sure where he found his new regalia, but he is a vision of gleaming armor and a decadent fur robe so long that it slithers over the piles of coins, shifting them in the wake of his booted feet like water.  His jaw is upthrust and proud, his hair thick, and his eyes determined.  There are no kings in the Shire, and for Bilbo he seems to have walked straight from one of the books on his shelf back in Bag End.  For a moment, he barely seems real.  
  
Then his gaze falls upon his loyal company, and everything changes.  There are deep shadows beneath his eyes, and now they are hard, _cold._   Bilbo finds himself shrinking from them, half-hiding behind Dwalin’s massive shoulder.  Thorin addresses them, and the deep, commanding rumble of his voice seems to fill the entire mountain.  
  
"You will dress and arm yourselves.  Then you will find the Arkenstone."  
One or two of them open their mouths to question him, but no sound comes out.  As they disperse into the adjoining rooms, Thorin fixes his gaze on Bilbo and simply says, “Stay.”  
  
Bilbo isn’t sure he could refuse even if he wanted to, and he doesn’t.  Thorin’s face is softer now, and Bilbo lets him grasp him, lets him bear him down into the treasure and envelop them both in that sumptuous fur robe.  One of his hands cups Bilbo’s cheek, but the other is buried in the heap of gold, letting the coins slide lovingly between his fingers.  That tender gaze is still fixed on Bilbo’s face, but now it feels as though it is looking straight through him, seeking something much more beautiful beneath.  
  
Smaug is dead, and the rightful king is restored.  Thorin grips his hair a little too tightly and kisses him.  It does not taste like victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hello on tumblr- http://aviva0017.tumblr.com/


	3. Dwalin/Ori- Basorexia, Basemaine

(So I accidentally mixed up which word this was when I got this prompt, so I ended up combining both into this weirdness XD)

 **Basorexia**  - An overwhelming desire to kiss.

 **Baisemain**  - A kiss on the hand.

——-

They stop to rest under the shadow of the carrock, unable to push on farther until Gandalf has had a chance to better examine Thorin’s injuries.  Once Dwalin is satisfied that Thorin is well looked-after, by both a worried wizard and a midly overbearing hobbit, he retreats away from the company into the woods to see to himself.  
  
It isn’t bad.  A scattering of cuts and bruises, but nothing worth wasting what’s left of their medical supplies on.  But he’s covered in warg blood and the filth of the goblin tunnels, and the overpowering smell of it takes him back to battlefields and darker places he would rather not revisit.  
  
"M-mister Dwalin?"  
  
As though summoned, Ori slips nervously into the clearing, both his unharmed face and the bowl of water in his hands a very welcome sight.  It looks as though Dori has already cleaned him up, the dirt that might have otherwise hidden the embarrassed blush on his cheeks wiped away.    
  
"I was wonderin’ if you’d let me-" He holds up a cloth and gestures awkwardly with the bowl, stopping himself when the water begins to slosh over the sides.  "To thank you, y’know, for lending me your hammer."  
  
Dwalin isn’t entirely sure what Ori is offering, but there is something in the lad’s face that makes him nod towards the ground beside him and relax his guarded posture a bit.  Ori kneels hesitantly beside him, setting the bowl in the pine needles and dipping the cloth into the water.  He makes another odd gesture, and when there is no understanding in Dwalin’s face, he asks, “…Your arm?”  
  
He lifts the right one, letting his wrist rest lightly in one of Ori’s little hands.  The other brings the wet cloth to his arm and begins to gingerly wipe the sticky black blood away.  Dwalin catches Ori’s gaze flickering to him, looking for signs of disapproval.  When he receives none, he gains courage, working through the filth until the tattooed skin beneath is visible again.  He works slowly downwards until he hits the metal at Dwalin’s wrists, and scrubs there as well, his eyebrows drawn together with concentration.  
  
By the time Ori reaches his hand, Dwalin’s heart is thumping.  There is an intimacy to this that he doesn’t quite understand- a _vulnerability_ , one that makes him instinctually want to order the boy away from him and finish the task alone.  But Ori’s touch is gentle and his face is earnest and focused as he almost lovingly cleans the blood away, and he can’t bring himself to let him stop.  
  
The hand is clean now, but Ori doesn’t let go.  Instead, he draws it hesitantly to his mouth, eyes locking suddenly with Dwalin’s.  The old warrior holds the gaze, throat going dry, as Ori presses his lips not to Dwalin’s fingers, but to the cold metal of his knuckle dusters.  It is the softest thing to touch his hands since Fili and Kili were babes and he ran his fingers through their fine hair, and it wakes something unidentifiable in him, something long-stifled under the weight of duty.  He is hit by a thousand urges at once- to violently yank his hand back, to press the lad into the bed of dry leaves and find better uses for that gentle mouth, to immediately arrange an escort and have him sent back to Ered Luin away from the inevitable peril of this quest.  He does none of these things, instead remaining frozen, the cloth and water forgotten by both.  
  
Ori’s eyes are still locked with his, despite the darkening red blush that is climbing its way up his cheeks and ears, and not for the first time, Dwalin muses that he may have more courage than any of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hello on tumblr- http://aviva0017.tumblr.com/


	4. Bofur/Nori- Post-sex giggles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the kink meme
> 
> Prompt: After sex, Bofur is a giggly mess; he’s so full of endorphins and other happy hormones, he can do nothing serious for some time after sex.
> 
> His partner rolls her/his eyes, but is pleased to know she/he did this to Bofur.
> 
> [I did this one while sobering up at like 8 am and it may or may not be coherent or totally stupid XD Too bad]

They both collapse back into the blankets and furs, quite thoroughly satisfied, and for a moment neither can do much besides catch their breath. Half-blind, Nori gropes for his pipe and pulls himself mostly upright to lean back against the headboard. He packs it methodically, with an air of tenseness. _Waiting,_ and _very_ deliberately avoiding looking at his partner’s face. He strikes the flint and there is a poorly-muffled titter. He takes a deep drag from the pipe, and there is another. It is rather like being in bed with a live bomb, and he figures he might as well get it over with.

"Alright, out wiv’ it," he mumbles, and that does it. Bofur all but explodes into giggles, peals of idiotic laughter that make him nearly inhale his ridiculous mustache. Nori rubs his temples, schooling his face carefully into annoyance instead of any sort of amusement. "Never knew it was possible to actually bugger someone silly ‘til you."  
  
Bofur snorts. “Screw you,” he says cheerfully, rolling over and scooting awkwardly so that he can lay his head on Nori’s lap. “Then again,” he muses, “tha’ might be a bit moot, considerin’ I already did that.”  
  
He’s giggling harder now- apparently he finds himself hilarious- and Nori rolls his eyes. “Idiot wanker.”  
  
Bofur grins up at him (too brightly, considering Nori can feel himself getting a headache) and says, “Aye, guilty o’ that, too, most days.” The exasperated groan this earns only sends Bofur off into another giggling fit, and Nori doesn’t feel too bad picking up one of their abandoned pillows and using it to lightly smack Bofur’s absurd face. Really, he’d thought that his drunken fits of hilarity were terrible until he’d discovered the new low that was his particular brand of after-sex euphoria. The first time he’d been angry- not his best performance, maybe, but certainly nothing to be _laughed_ at- until he’d figured out that was just how Bofur _was._ And currently Bofur is still sprawled out on his lap (entirely unfazed by the pillow assault), trying to trace shapes over his chest and arms with one of the unclasped braids of his beard, and he would be more of a liar than usual if he didn’t admit that it’s a little endearing.  
  
Somehow one of Bofur’s leather hair ties is still in, and Nori clasps his pipe in his teeth and reaches to pull it out and comb his fingers through the thick, loose hair. Bofur breathes in deeply through his nose, the giggles finally subsiding, and wipes at the tears of mirth that have gathered in the corners of his eyes.  
  
For several minutes it is quiet, Nori blowing smoke rings and absently combing at his bedmate’s hair, and Bofur letting his eyes close and his lips curl into that purely joyful smile (the one Nori can’t stand how much he needs to see). “You ridiculous bastard,” he says fondly. “Remind me why I landed meself in bed wiv’ the likes of you.”  
  
Bofur looks up at him and raises an eyebrow in an obvious challenge. “Forgotten already?”  
  
Nori can’t help the smirk that spreads across his face, and he sets his pipe back on the bedside table. “Maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hello on tumblr- http://aviva0017.tumblr.com/


End file.
